The commander was face-down in a pool of blood and the open wound from his body had his intestines on display.
It wasn't until she saw the maggots squirming on the red flesh, that she felt her stomach roll and, with a quick mutter about needing something from the van, she fled the scene.
Tony had spared her a cursory glance, knowing full-well what was about to happen.
He handed McGee his camera and left the other Probies on-scene under McGee's guidance to finish with the corpse. It was a very simple-case and one he had no doubt that McGee was ready to take the lead on. Of course, that didn't mean he'd tell Tim that.
His footfalls were fairly quiet through the woods and he couldn't help but wince as he came to the clearing where the truck was parked and saw her.
She had braced an arm against the cool metal of the truck, the other hand holding her hair out of her face. Her body shook as she convulsed, her stomach rippling as it tried to empty itself onto the sidewalk.
Tony stepped up next to her and gently held the hair back with one hand while the other slid a cool and steadying hand against her forehead.
"Easy," he muttered as she retched yet again.
She stood and he held out a handkerchief for her to use to wipe her mouth. Ziva took it without a word, finding herself unable to meet his eyes.
"You should see Ducky when we get back," he said, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jacket.
"I do not think that is necessary," she said as she moved to reach into the passenger side door and grabbed her bottle of water.
He paused for a moment before speaking and watched as she took a swig of water, rinsed her mouth and spat on the nearby grass.
"This isn't the first time this has happened, Ziva."
She looked up and for the briefest of seconds, Tony thought he saw a hint of panic in her eyes. And then it was gone.
"If it is effecting the cases-"
He spoke, interrupting her protest. "Its not about work. I'm worried about you."
Ziva sighed. "I will be fine."
"Go see Ducky."
She shook her head firmly. "I will be fine."
"Ziva-"
She shot him a murderous look, one he knew not to push. "What, Tony? Will you threaten to tell Gibbs? Tell him what? That I have the flu? Please! Just let it go."
He looked at the ground and fought the urge to kick a rock. He knew he couldn't push her- she had dug her heels in and whenever she did, he knew from experience it was impossible (and somewhat painful) to push her even further.
By sheer force of will, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat and managed to find his 'boss' voice somewhere. "If you're not better by next week, we're having this conversation in front of Gibbs. Understood?"
Ziva managed a nod and a curt: "Understood."